Phenomenology in Catholic Philosophy: Assessments and Perspectives

Abstract

The following exposition examines the concept of phenomenology with respect to its gradual integration into Catholic philosophy. Phenomenology is an evolving field whose internal tensions inevitably give rise to phenomenologies of religious thought, including theological questions. This development is articulated by numerous prominent scholars of our era, such as Max Scheler, Emmanuel Lévinas, and Jean-Luc Marion. The concept of “phenomenology of revelation” represents a distinctive development within the broader framework of the subject. In Catholic philosophy, the phenomenological perspective gained significant traction in the last century, particularly under the influence of scholars such as Hans Urs von Balthasar and Karl Rahner. In the contemporary era, there is a diverse array of efforts to reinterpret Catholic philosophical thought through phenomenological methods. From the author’s standpoint, the issue of divine revelation, particularly natural revelation, has the potential to unveil novel possibilities for Catholic philosophy in the present and the future.

1. Introduction

Phenomenology as a philosophical movement cannot be regarded as an isolated development. Although the term “phenomenology” only gradually became established in the philosophical literature, the central problems addressed by the relevant authors are fundamentally similar to the principal issues of philosophy in general. To put it succinctly, phenomenology raises the question of reality and provides an answer. However, what exactly is the question of reality? Fundamentally, the question concerns how we relate to reality. Nevertheless, “relating to” reality is a strange expression, since we ourselves are part of reality. Thus, the relationship is ourselves; we are real. But how do we know about this relationship? Here, the question is tied to the concept of “knowledge”, which does not simply mean information about something but rather the direct awareness of the fact that we simply know reality—we perceive it, sense it, apprehend it, even comprehend it. When Edmund Husserl declared at the time that “We must go back to ‘the things themselves’” (Husserl 1970a, p. 168), he was implicitly responding to the famous statement by the Kant scholar Otto Liebmann, who wrote, “We must return to Kant” (Liebmann 1865, p. 48 et passim). For Husserl, the mandate was a return not to Kantian categories, but to “the things themselves”. These “things” represent the essential structures of reality, signaling even in Husserl’s early work a turn toward a new concept of what is real.

Whence do we need to return to reality? What is this loss of reality that motivates the return? A fundamental premise of the history of Western philosophy is that humanity is mired in a loss of reality, that is, in a certain sense, it is simultaneously cut off from reality and yet bound to it (cf. the famous metaphor of the cave, Plato 1997b, pp. 1132–35). In the early period of phenomenology, many viewed the loss of reality as resulting from the methodological transformation of German idealism, during which individual philosophers increasingly ceased to ask the question of the nature of reality and more and more accepted the basic premise of empirical-experimental research, according to which (quoting a later author who shares a similar spirit) “The Cosmos is all that is or ever was or ever will be” (Sagan 1985, p. 10). Nonetheless, this proposition has always been and will always be problematic. It gives rise to a variant of Russell’s Paradox, insofar as it remains an open question whether the statement and the speaker can be considered to be members of the “Cosmos”. The prima facie acceptance of such statements has repeatedly caused philosophers serious headaches; thus, even Franz Brentano, who stood on “empirical” grounds, recognized that the anchor point of reality is not the “physical phenomenon” but the “mental phenomenon”, the direct presence of which takes the form of “internal perception” (Brentano 1995, pp. 77–101, especially 91). With this recognition, the answer to the question of reality had already moved away from naive externalist empiricism toward a kind of intuitive model.

If the question is what reality is, the answer can be rendered either negatively or positively. Negatively, we can rule out that our knowledge of reality could be exhausted by the data of sensory perception, since these presuppose the inherent cognitive structures of perception that form external data. Nevertheless, we must also avoid attributing specific psychological or mental content to these structures, since this view, according to Husserl, is a kind of “psychologism” (Husserl 1965, p. 187), which fails to take into account the fact that, in essence and beyond all specific aspects, we know not of “mental states”, but of reality itself. We unquestionably believe that we know reality, even when this knowledge needs to be corrected, complemented, or superseded. It is obvious that knowing reality also means knowing knowledge, which is something we already have. Phenomenology, therefore, investigates reality from the outset, which includes our knowledge of reality as well.

This outline is by no means foreign to the theological framework, and within that, even less so to the problems of Christian and Catholic thought. However, the realization of this situation took place in several stages in the work of thinkers such as (among others) Franz Brentano, Max Scheler, Erich Przywara, Karl Rahner, Hans Urs von Balthasar, Jean-Luc Marion, and William Desmond. These approaches differ significantly from one another both in content and methodology. However, they converge on the following points:

• A central inquiry shared by philosophy and theology is the nature of reality in its essence.
• The concepts of self-expression and self-revelation are fundamental to our understanding of reality.
• Rather than being an end in itself, reality functions as a dynamic totality where revelation and cognition continually interact.
• Through this synergy, it is not only the receptive subject that is enriched; reality itself is augmented and renewed.
• In some sense, human awareness is an integral dimension of the real; without it, reality remains unfulfilled.

2. The Arc of Phenomenology

These points are evident in several philosophical approaches, but particularly in phenomenology and its branches. Rather than providing a detailed historical overview of phenomenology (cf. Zahavi 2018), I would like to refer here to what I have repeatedly called “the arc of phenomenology” (Mezei 2008). “The arc of phenomenology” is a complex concept that is both historical and systematic. Historically, the arc describes how the fundamental problem of phenomenology—the question of reality qua reality—is articulated in the works of the founders of phenomenological thought, beginning with the problem of inner experience (Franz Brentano) and extending to the discovery of the independent existence of logical essence (the early Edmund Husserl), then, through the deepening of the problem of intentionality, to the disclosure of egological reality (the middle Husserl); until gradually it became clear that the “question of being” lies at the heart of all this, whether as the question of the human person (Max Scheler) or as the question of being-in-the-world (the early Martin Heidegger). In Heidegger’s work, a breakthrough occurs regarding the actual problem of phenomenology: the understanding of being. Heidegger realized that all phenomenology poses the question of reality. However, we can only pose this question if we genuinely presuppose the givenness of being and, at the same time, our own existence—where “presupposing” already signifies an always-already (immer schon) factuality (cf. Heidegger 2010, § 1 et passim).

As the phenomenological arc continued to evolve, negativity, materiality, corporeality, and then the problem of the “other” emerged (Jean-Paul Sartre, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Emmanuel Lévinas). This phase in classical phenomenology can be understood as a reaction to the developments of the first phase. While in the first phase, the central problem of phenomenology was conceived with respect to reality as a dynamic totality, in the reactionary phase, non-reality becomes the focus. The thoroughgoing exposition of the problem of otherness can be considered as the conclusion of the classical period of the development of “the phenomenological movement” (Spiegelberg 1982). Following the work of Emmanuel Lévinas, no other figure in the phenomenological movement has emerged to compare with Husserl and Heidegger in depth, complexity and philosophical originality. Concurrently, phenomenology became increasingly intricate and multifaceted, indicating a process of disintegration, during which the earlier problems of theological phenomenology, including the issue of divine revelation, have garnered heightened emphasis (Murchadha 2012).

During the final phase of classical phenomenology, the theological problem assumed its definitive form, particularly through the work of Lévinas. This marked the beginning of a new phase of phenomenology. In the period following the classical era, several scholars investigated theological and religious dilemmas. Paul Ricœur, Michel Henry, Jean-François Courtine, Jean-Louis Chrétien and Jean-Yves Lacoste—each rooted in his own intellectual history—began publishing works in which they applied phenomenology not only to religious phenomena but also used it to expose central religious issues as questions of phenomenology. Ricœur published an extensive work on divine revelation in the biblical sense (Ricœur 1980). Henry, who gradually uncovered his Christian faith, explored the close relationship between the Gospels’ narrative of a self-affirming Jesus and the central tenet of transcendental phenomenology: the problem of the “I am” (Henry 2003). Courtine and Chrétien equally investigated the importance of religious experience (Chrétien 1985; Chrétien 2008). Lacoste proposed a phenomenology of religious data, most notably in his book The Appearing of God (Lacoste 2018). In this work, Lacoste attempted to develop a phenomenological account of divine revelation based on his understanding of Husserl’s phenomenology. Subsequently, Lacoste offered various approaches to human and divine speech, often related to the problem of revelation (Lacoste 2024). However, Jean-Luc Marion is perhaps the best-known figure in this circle. Following the line of the problem introduced by Rudolf Otto (“das ganz Andere”) and applied by Karl Barth (“totaliter aliter”) and by Emmanuel Lévinas in ever greater depth, Marion arrived at an overall theological interpretation of the phenomenology of otherness (see below; cf. Otto 1958; Barth 1968; Chrétien 1985; Marion 2020a, 2024b).

Dominique Janicaud sharply rebutted the “theological turn of French phenomenology” (Janicaud 2000), criticizing these authors for breaching “phenomenological neutrality” by smuggling preconceived Christian dogmas into their investigations. Janicaud characterized their procedure as a “hijacking” of the phenomenological method to serve a religious purpose. However, Janicaud’s overall rejection of the theological relevance of phenomenology was not sufficiently justified. The argument that subjects of a theological or religious nature are beyond the scope of possible experience cannot account for why theological and religious subjects emerged as central problems of phenomenology, even in its earliest stages (Brentano, Adolf Reinach, Scheler, etc.). Rudolf Otto, Gerardus van der Leeuw, and Friedrich Heiler followed versions of the phenomenological method and also played an important role in the revival of the theory of religion. Arguably, they did so as they held that there is a manifest religious experience that is dependent on phenomenologically accessible essences (cf. Horner 2020).

An interesting occurrence in the phenomenological movement is its early connection to Catholic thought. There are several factors behind this relation. Most importantly, the Catholic origin of phenomenology, specifically its Austrian roots, made this relationship possible in the first place. The Catholic background of the first figures, such as Franz Brentano, Carl Stumpf, and Anton Marty, was a significant factor, even though they strongly differed in their interpretations. But perhaps even more important was the logical objectivism of the early Husserl. To many, this objectivism appeared as a return to realism, so important to Catholic thinking at the beginning of the 20^th century, in the midst of growing relativism and subjectivism (cf. Husserl 1965). Historical events before and after the rise of the phenomenological movement furthered this connection. The collapse of the Papal State in 1870 and the issuance of the encyclical letter Aeterni Patris in 1879, which emphasized the role of St. Thomas Aquinas’s philosophy, contributed to the interest in phenomenology among Catholic circles and the interest of phenomenologists in Catholicism. While Husserl, who was born into a Jewish family, converted to Lutheranism, several other early phenomenology figures, particularly those in and around the Munich Circle, were tied to Catholicism. This additional factor helps to elucidate the rapidly spreading phenomenon of religious conversions, often to Catholicism, in this era. This tendency was not confined to the initial period of the phenomenological movement but was also evident in subsequent developments, including the conversion of St. Edith Stein, originally a close disciple of Husserl, and a number of French philosophers in the latter half of the 20^th century. Spiegelberg (1982, pp. 172–73) described this intertwining of phenomenology and religious conversion early on. Today, the situation is certainly different, as phenomenology has become a field of philosophy, with or without denominational connections. Nevertheless, a special relation between Catholic philosophical–theological thinking and phenomenology persists today, thanks to two prominent Catholic theologians: Karl Rahner and Hans Urs von Balthasar, and to theologian philosophers, such as Josef Seifert or Jean-Yves Lacoste (cf. Seifert 2021; Marion on Lacoste in Marion 2024a).

3. The Problem of Phenomenology as the Problem of Revelation

The religious dimension has been present from the very beginning of the history of phenomenology. To deny this fact is prejudicial; it stems from an inaccurate understanding of the phenomenological problem. The problem of revelation is situated within phenomenology’s religious dimension. Intertwined with this, the problem of revelation has an aspect directly rooted in the phenomenon’s very concept. Phenomenology does not simply raise the question of reality qua reality, but more importantly, the question of reality as disclosure. After all, the meaning of “phenomenon” is nothing other than “that which appears”, “opens up”, “manifests itself”, “is disclosed or revealed”. In essence, the term “phenomenology” can be legitimately substituted with the expression “the study of disclosure, i.e., revelation”.

This philosophical connection is clear in the wording of the Gospel: “For nothing is secret (krypton) that will not be made manifest (phaneron); nor is anything hidden that will not be known and come to light.” (Luke 8:17; Mark 4:22) In the text, krypton and phaneron (analogues of noumenon and phaenomenon) form a single unity. More precisely, krypton is expressed in phaneron; phaneron is the disclosure of krypton. The intention of Jesus in this concise parable can be addressed from several perspectives, including ontological, moral, historical, and ultimately mystical dimensions. Essentially, the saying implies that God’s plan of salvation is necessarily revealed or manifested and thus fulfilled. This also means that the krypton and the phaneron are united within God Himself by a dynamic that, in some way, describes the nature of God. God Himself is both krypton and phaneron (Matt 6:6). God, who is hidden, is at the same time God, who is manifest; that is, these two aspects form a whole.

This issue is addressed in phenomenology, where the concept of a phenomenon is that which necessarily expresses itself and is thus fulfilled. The type of perception capable of apprehending this completeness is secondary; what is fundamental is that the phenomenon is fulfillment. As fulfillment is necessarily perceived, it goes hand in hand with the apprehension of fulfillment. Any krypton implies its phaneron, and any phaneron implies its apprehension. We could also use the terms “understanding” or “comprehension”, but it is more advisable to use the term “apprehension”, which expresses overall perception without exhausting what is perceived. Apprehending the phaneron and its krypton is necessarily an intentional act, and this intentionality is a plausible expression of the implicative relationship between phaenomenon and noumenon, noesis and noema, world and God.

This is especially important when considering the so-called saturated phenomenon. As Marion repeatedly explained, a saturated phenomenon is such one that human understanding cannot properly contain or even perceive it (Marion 1985, p. 106). However, to articulate the thesis that the saturated phenomenon cannot be grasped, we must first define understanding in such a way as to ensure its inability to grasp saturated phenomena. Here we encounter a problem similar to that of Kant’s Ding an sich: we exclude a conception of something that we must nevertheless reach in order to carry out this exclusion. Marion makes insufficient use of the concept of intentionality here, since it need not signify some kind of dominant comprehension (a “grasp” in the narrow sense), but simply a relation, an orientation toward something, an apprehension without full comprehension. A saturated phenomenon remains intentional in form even when the place of the definite concept, the noema, is taken over by an incomprehensible content. Apprehending what cannot be fully comprehended is merely a modification of intentionality.

The same applies to the intentionality of revelation; it remains a phenomenon even if it is saturated, incomprehensible, mystical, or elusive. Revelation is defined as an object of intentionality and is understood as a pole of an intentional relation. This is understood to be the case because, if revelation is indeed a revelation of something to someone, then this is a phenomenon conceived in a certain way in the correlative whole of intentionality.

Therefore, the problem of the phenomenon is the problem of revelation. Revelation is genuine disclosure, the disclosure of all being and knowledge, that is, its possibility, actuality, and fulfillment. We may call this the natural concept of revelation, without which no specific or positive concept of revelation can be understood. The natural concept of revelation is, of course, the preliminary expression of the positive revelation, that is, its proleptic appearance. Consequently, the assertion that the concept of natural revelation is a prerequisite for positive revelation does not negate the positive reality of revelation; rather, it affirms the latter. For this reality expresses itself in that natural condition, in man, which is the matrix for the reception of revelation as positive revelation. The presentation of the hyperbolic denial of the natural condition to receive revelation is not meaningless, but it requires sober evaluation and interpretation. Every condition, by definition, pertains to the state it conditions, in which case, the term “conditioning” may be interpreted in a number of ways. For instance, it may refer to the experience of falling in love with another person, where, despite the overwhelming experience of “the other”, my “otherness” is still a “condition” in a certain sense of the experience. Such a condition is thus inextricably linked to its object, regardless of whether that link is natural or supernatural, or established a priori or a posteriori.

To put it plainly: the proper distinction between the a priori and the a posteriori is substantiated, yet their antagonistic opposition is a contrived dichotomy. At a more profound level, the two concepts are interconnected, as the a priori corresponds to the prior instance of that which is also given a posteriori. A condition is not the adversary of its consequent, but rather its herald—a proleptic manifestation of what is to come. Aletheia is not the adversary of apocalypsis (as Marion repeatedly assumes), but its prior existence given in the overarching unity of the two factors. The concept of natural revelation constitutes a preliminary expression of the supernatural rather than a denial of it, insofar as the natural is fundamentally grounded in and directed toward its supernatural source. Phenomenology must not be conflated with hyperbolic dualism, as Husserl already made clear when he rejected “nearly all the well-known doctrinal content of the Cartesian philosophy” (Husserl 1960, p. 1).

Specific or positive concepts of revelation—such as the historical conceptions in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—can only be understood within the framework of revelation as a fundamental disclosure, which is nature itself, humanity itself, and thus the very fact that we can understand anything at all. Phenomenology is the discipline of revelation as disclosure, and this fact has been present, more or less explicitly, in the works of phenomenological authors from the very beginning. Denying this appears to be a misinterpretation with grave consequences. Every disclosure is rooted in a natural and a priori form of fundamental disclosure, in which the discloser, the disclosed, and the receiver of disclosure are holistically intertwined. In other words, phenomenology is the discipline of entanglement, the science of “the universal a priori of correlation” (Husserl 1970b, p. 165) in which it holds that “what God has joined together, let no one separate.” (Matt 19:6).

4. The Development of the Concept of Revelation

Since the actual problem of phenomenology is revelation (in a systemic sense), it is not surprising that the theme of revelation gradually took shape within phenomenology (in a historical sense). The gradual nature of this process can be attributed to three factors.

• In the second half of the 19^th century, the concept of revelation still had a strongly doctrinal character, that is, it belonged to the realm of theological dogmatics. Numerous attempts were made to reexamine this, most notably in Schelling’s philosophy of revelation, but we may also mention the work of Bernard Bolzano as an important representative of a nuanced and elaborate notion of divine revelation (Schelling 1858, 2007; Bolzano 1994, vol. I, pp. 112–14). However, in the second half of the 19^th century, Schelling’s endeavor was pushed into the background, just like similar philosophical–theological experiments. The reason for this lies in the rapid development of the natural sciences.
• Phenomenology began to unfold along the lines of empirical psychology, in which the question of revelation could initially arise only as a problem of intentionality, but without its later interpretation as a universal principle.
• The next phase of the development of phenomenology led to a theory of logic, which meant that the interest in specific logical formulations left no room for the explicit question of revelation. However, this latter issue could not be suppressed: beginning with Brentano’s works, it gradually came to the fore and then assumed a key role in the post-classical development of phenomenology (cf. Vincelette 2009).

To highlight this development, let us recall the well-known statement from the Seventh Letter attributed to Plato. As the author writes, a certain kind of knowledge arises “after long-continued intercourse between teacher and pupil, in joint pursuit of the subject”, and within this process, “suddenly, like light flashing forth when a fire is kindled, it is born in the soul and straightaway nourishes itself.” (Plato 1997a, p. 1659) The significance of the quotation in our context is not that a certain kind of knowledge cannot be put into words, as the Platonic author writes, but that the recognition of a certain problem slowly reaches the stage where it flashes forth and then “straightway nourishes itself”. Similarly, the problem of revelation was latent from the beginning in the thought of the major phenomenological authors, and at times in their writings as well, but it only flared up and became explicit at a certain point and then “nourished itself”.

In the historical arc of phenomenology, this breakthrough was most powerfully expressed in Max Scheler’s On the Eternal in Man, where the problem of revelation plays a key role. As Scheler puts it:

“By ‘revelation’ I here intend to designate not what positive theologians call ‘the revelation’, nor any actual revealing, much less ‘positive’ revelation, but solely the specific manner, in which any kind of data relating to an object of divine and holy nature is received into the mind via observation or experience. I refer, in other words, to the specific manner, in which it is actually or potentially imparted as perceptual data, whether directly or indirectly. The nature of this type of cognition is such that it stands in contrast to all spontaneous cognitive acts, and here it is not a question of distinguishing objectively between two modes of causality by which knowledge may enter the mind, but of recognizing a peculiar mode of evidence-forming which is latent in the observable cognitive process and fundamentally different from all other modes.”

(Italics in the original; Scheler [1960] 2017, p. 147)

Scheler’s approach suggests a typology of the kinds of revelation. The author distinguishes between doctrinal revelation (expressed in theological dogmas), positive revelation (related to the historical data of a given religious body), and a fundamental kind, which is defined as the “observation or experience” of “an object of divine and holy nature”. This latter kind is the natural concept of revelation, which provides the frame of reference for the other two concepts. A similar, though more detailed, typology can be found in Gerardus van der Leeuw’s Religion in Essence and Manifestation (van der Leeuw 1986) and, on a more universal pattern, in Friedrich Heiler’s Erscheinungsformen und Wesen der Religion (Heiler 1961). However, these two phenomenological approaches differ in their emphasis on the ultimate ineffability of divine revelation, as posited by van der Leeuw, in contrast to Heiler’s stress on its universal givenness.

The unfolding of the concept of revelation can already be observed in Scheler, but the process is most striking in Heidegger. In Phenomenology and Theology, Heidegger distinguished “phenomenology” from “theology”, suggesting that phenomenology (“or philosophy”, as he puts it) asks the question of the full meaning of being. In contrast, theology focuses on an aspect of being and thus presupposes a more comprehensive understanding (Heidegger 1998, pp. 39–63). A close reading of the text shows, however, that Heidegger’s criticism concerns the kind of evidence granted in faith. The perspective of theology’s particular object limits this evidence, while philosophy is related to the entire realm of being. In this context, Heidegger uses the German expressions offenbar (obvious, manifest) and Offenbarkeit (obviousness, manifestation), semantically related to Offenbarung (“revelation”). His main point, thus, can be conceived as a critique of a limited notion of revelation in support of the fundamental understanding of revelation. Ultimately, being (Sein) is itself a revelation of being (Seyn), including the specific intertwining of appearance and non-appearance.

For Heidegger, being occurs (es gibt); it is itself a gift, the gift of occurrence—that is, we may safely say, revelation. Being as revelation is still being even when this being appears as an event (Ereignis). If we attempt to play off these two terms against one another, we misinterpret Heidegger: for with him, “all being”, including the event, is horizon-like, and thus not substantive (as some misinterpreters believe). In Lévinas and subsequent authors, we observe a process of typification in which the essential, direct, fundamental concept of revelation—as the disclosure of all being—transforms into the theme of the “other”, which is an independent and significant development. Consequently, the irreducible immediacy of revelation is articulated as mediated in the work of authors such as Paul Ricœur. This type of mediation and otherness gradually prevailed—despite attempts to the contrary, such as Michel Henry’s concept. However, the theme of indirectness continues to dominate, raising important questions about the concept of revelation, epistemology and, above all, the nature of reality (cf. Gschwandtner 2024).

In the context of revelation as original self-revelation, it can be posited that it is, in fact, the alpha and omega of all things. Scheler reiterates the patristic notion that all knowledge of God must emanate from God Himself (Scheler [1960] 2017, p. 27), yet this cannot be constrained to pure knowledge of God, as knowing God entails the knowledge of many other things as well. While we may not directly “see all things in God”, as Malebranche suggested (Malebranche 1980, p. 230), it is acceptable to say that all our knowledge—ultimately and in a complex way—originates from a divine source. Similarly, reality in its entirety is God-generated and thus, in essence, all reality and knowledge are revelatory. The charge of ontologism is misplaced here, because the revelatory nature of all being and knowledge does not exclude intermediary forms related to the nature of the universe and the freedom of conscious agents. Moreover, the phrase revelatio quodammodo omnia (“revelation in a sense is everything”) suggests that revelation does not permit an exhaustive grasp or comprehension, but only its apprehension—even if this apprehension is more evident than any evidence (Mezei 2017, pp. 96, 335; cf. Vincelette 2009, pp. 93–119).

5. Natural, Supernatural, and Absolute Revelation

It is very important to understand the difference between natural and supernatural revelation. Natural revelation concerns the creation and its implications, while supernatural revelation concerns the history of salvation and its ultimate fulfillment. The two categories, however, are inherently interconnected. Natural revelation is directed towards supernatural revelation, both in principle and in history, and vice versa. Supernatural revelation contains, permeates, and fulfills natural revelation. While both can be investigated separately to a certain extent, such an inquiry necessarily leads to the other kind, i.e., the natural to supernatural and the supernatural to natural revelation. Natural revelation is considered a priori with respect to the concrete instantiation of supernatural revelation, and supernatural revelation is regarded as a posteriori in the perspective of natural revelation. However, it is crucial to acknowledge that supernatural revelation remains the prius of knowledge when compared to natural revelation.

Distinguishing between these two forms of revelation implies not only their interconnectedness, entanglement, and organic unity, but also the complex interplay between them. This interplay occurs in what can be termed absolute revelation, a concept defined as the whole in which natural and supernatural revelation are situated. While absolute revelation can be categorized as a priori or a posteriori, it is important to note that, in essence, it transcends both categories and is instead directly given in phenomenological evidence. This assertion can be logically argued, but it is more important to point out that human beings are inherently open to the givenness of absolute revelation.

Absolute revelation represents the ultimate horizon of all concepts of revelation, whether natural or supernatural. This horizon is profoundly intertwined with human freedom, thereby rendering it open to free acceptance or refusal. However, due to our tendency to prioritize the secondary, the derivative, and the “subjectively satisfying” (von Hildebrand 1953, pp. 23–79), we possess this freedom only in principle and require various forms of assistance to understand the primal importance of absolute revelation. Such forms of assistance encompass a range of factors, including the aesthetic appeal of natural environments and the abhorrent nature of immorality. Historical and cultural organizations also offer forms of assistance, such as the complex effects of educational and religious institutions. Finally, internal communications, such as insights provided by conscience and inner experience, are crucial moments of spiritual support.

The concept of “divine revelation”, which is predominantly understood to encompass theological doctrines and the contents of the Bible, is inherently intertwined with the structures delineated in the previous section. This perspective does not imply a rejection of the significance of the positive form of revelation; rather, the latter presupposes the overall structure. Let me note that the term “presupposition” here does not signify any restricted logical operation, but rather the intricate web of entanglement in which human beings, as the whole creation, are embedded. In a concrete act of receiving revelation, such as the conversion of the apostle St. Paul, the presupposition entails not only the act of revelation itself (“I am Jesus whom thou persecutes”, Acts 9:5), but also Paul’s original election to realize this conversion and, more generally, his human nature (including the very concept of revelation) that is capable of receiving and following the divine election and call. These factors are interconnected, suggesting a fundamental entanglement inherent in absolute revelation.

The overall immediacy of absolute revelation cannot be consistently denied. To deny it (cf. Marion 2020b, pp. 28–32) is to confirm it because rejecting immediacy requires understanding it, and understanding it requires immediate, i.e., direct comprehension. When we encounter something in a mediated way, we inherently understand that immediacy is overwritten by mediation. In other words, we perceive, understand, and are aware of immediacy, particularly the overall immediacy of absolute revelation. However, it is important to note that this does not imply complete or full understanding. Although we are immediately aware of what is given as divine revelation, we lack an understanding of important features of immediacy, such as its inexhaustible nature. Absolute revelation is inexhaustible in absolute ways, while positive revelation is inexhaustible in particular ways, such as in the relationship of the two natures of Christ or the intimate inner relations of the persons of the Holy Trinity.

6. Phenomenologies of Revelation in Catholic Thought

The problem of revelation has been thematized with increasing intellectual depth in the works of certain Catholic authors. We can safely say that Anton Günther was among the first significant Catholic thinkers to address this theme in modernity. He intended to offer a critique of concepts he termed monistic—concepts that ultimately fostered, in his view, atheism and even communism. He considered Hegel’s system as essentially monistic, and, perhaps surprisingly, judged also the scholasticism of St. Thomas Aquinas “semi-pantheistic” (also a form of monism). Thomas, according to Günther, did not distinguish properly between the being of the Creator and created beings, which jeopardized the marked dualism between God and human beings and necessarily led to a monistic ontology (Günther 1834; cf. Oischinger 1852, pp. 219–20). Since Günther’s life’s work coincided with the emergence of Neo-Aristotelianism and then Neo-Scholasticism, his name—despite his significant influence at the time—soon fell into oblivion. This process was facilitated by the indexing of his works by the Roman Curia (cf. Denzinger and Hünermann 2015, §§ 2828, 3021). Nevertheless, Günther’s insights into the distinct yet defining relationship between the divine persons and the human self, and his understanding of the human self as the self-expression of the divine self through natural revelation, are views that can be interpreted within the framework of doctrinal orthodoxy. A genius of philosophical–theological writing, his name and work merit thorough reassessment (Pritz 1978; Puskás 1992).

Throughout the 20^th century, Catholic authors who engaged with phenomenology recognized its Augustinian roots and commitments, and either criticized them (Geyser 1923) or welcomed them (Hessen 1923). Erich Przywara’s thorough investigation of the views of Scheler, Husserl, and the early Heidegger already signaled the reception of phenomenology, although in Przywara’s works this remained largely dismissive (Przywara 1923, 2014). Criticism was not absent among others, either, but the most significant and unambiguously phenomenologically inspired Catholic theologian was Hans Urs von Balthasar. Like certain phenomenologists, Balthasar also maintained a critical stance toward phenomenology, yet his concept of Herrlichkeit or “glory” cannot be properly understood without the background of phenomenology (von Balthasar 1982). Herrlichkeit is revelation; and the “apocalypse of the German soul”—the title of his first important work—understood the deep connection between phenomenology and the problem of revelation (von Balthasar 1998). Balthasar’s theology of revelation (under the influence of Karl Barth) tends to become one-sided and at times contradictory, especially with respect to the old metaphysical principle “finiti ad infinitum nulla proportio” (“the finite has no proportion to infinity”, (cf. von Balthasar 1982, p. 458 et passim), which he attempts to uphold together with a fundamentally different doctrine of the analogy of being (cf. von Balthasar 1987). However, Balthasar’s œuvre is undoubtedly a Catholic elaboration of central themes of phenomenology from a theological perspective.

The counterpart to these endeavors is the work of Karl Rahner, who refined the theme of revelation and understood it as a complex concept developed in the wake of Kant and Heidegger. God’s self-communication (Selbstmitteilung) further develops the theme of self-revelation as elaborated by Schelling and Hegel and situates it within the context of Catholic theology. Rahner’s theology of revelation envisions divine self-communication as a dialogical process that necessitates human participation; it is an unfolding communion between God and creation that moves toward ultimate fulfillment. This is epitomized in Rahner’s concept of Vorgriff—a “pre-apprehension” or proleptic anticipation of positive revelation. For Rahner, this capacity is not merely external to the human person but is intrinsic to nature itself, forming an essential part of the very structure of revelation (Rahner 1994, pp. 142–46). This approach is also present in the works of authors such as Johann Baptist Metz (Metz 2006) and Joseph Ratzinger (Ratzinger 2003), as well as in the communitarian-dialogical theology of Pope Francis (Francis and el-Tayeb 2019).

Here, I want to call attention to the œuvre of László Gondos-Grünhut, a writer who underwent a religious conversion from Judaism to Catholicism and authored works in both German and Hungarian. He was among the intellectuals who recognized revelation as a central theme in the first half of the 20^th century, and he expounded his views on the subject in his literary works on multiple occasions. As he wrote,

“Revelation is not an extraordinary gift, nor is it a rare historical event, but rather the awakening of the metaphysical faculties that lie dormant within us all. God’s Spirit speaks to us at all times; it is simply up to us whether we are willing to open ourselves to it. According to the general tenet of idealism, invisible reality is the source of all values, the fullness of all that is good, the meaning of our lives; according to the belief of intuitive idealism, we can discover the invisible reality if we become aware of and nurture our deep connections to it. Intuitive idealism is best able to uphold the certainty of the invisible reality through direct, personal experience. The mystics of all times and peoples were intuitive idealists”

(Gondos-Grünhut 2025, p. 48)

Gondos-Grünhut’s “intuitive idealism” is a conception close to Husserl’s “principle of principles”, which confirms the fundamental importance of direct awareness, intuition or Anschauung (Husserl 1983, p. 44). However, what is noteworthy in Gondos-Grünhut’s text is the joining of intuition and revelation, thus proposing a certain understanding of the natural concept of revelation. Without the natural concept, we cannot grasp the positive concept of revelation—that is, what absolute revelation has always planted within humanity as the a priori possibility of receiving revelation. This natural concept is also part of the development that, throughout the 20^th century, increasingly placed revelation at the center of attention of philosophers and theologians.

7. Marion and the Phenomenology of Revelation

The most widely recognized figure in contemporary revelational thought is Jean-Luc Marion. From his earliest works onwards, and under the influence of phenomenology, Marion has explored various aspects of the theme of revelation (cf. Graves 2021). Step by step, he approached an independent thematization of revelation, which ultimately led to the publication of his magnum opus, D’ailleurs, la revelation (Marion 2020a, English translation Marion 2024b under the title Revelation Comes from Elsewhere). This work is an outstanding and phenomenologically inspired philosophical treatise on divine revelation. It encompasses the systematic and historical aspects of divine self-communication, along with a multitude of philosophical, literary, and biblical references, as the concept of revelation unfolds ever more fully before the reader. The work is at once a summary, an organic continuation, and the culmination of Marion’s life’s work, and with equal force, one of the most remarkable works of contemporary philosophy of revelation. Its particular merit lies in the fact that Marion applies his philosophical approach—which culminates in the analysis of “Christ as a phenomenon”—to the mysteries of Trinitarian theology, where he delicately balances the inexpressible mystery with those aspects that can be rationally explored. As he writes,

“The horizon of Revelation never arises from our side, in the land of our possibilities, under our conceivable horizons of manifestation (neither ‘history’, nor ‘being’, nor the ‘Word’, much less the text), but instead from its side (…) With this breakthrough, everything is changed and much is clarified. From this moment, at least three decisions stand out. First, Revelation comes from elsewhere, for nothing seems stranger to us than the perfection of love (God loves and he alone loves all the way). Second, this elsewhere allows no condition of possibility, because love is accomplished without any condition—a gift given up can remain a perfect gift (which is called the Cross). Finally, this elsewhere can manifest itself, because it enters into visibility by taking a human figure (the Incarnation as entry into our visibility, that of the flesh).”

(Marion 2024b, pp. 105–6)

This paradigmatic section (in which Marion interprets Hans Urs von Balthasar’s conception in an affirmative manner) encapsulates the essence of the entire concept of “elsewhere”, with all its paradoxical implications. I will address the general form of this content—the problem of “alterism”—below. Here it suffices to note that while we are being instructed about the reality of an “elsewhere”—unpredictable from “our side”, incomprehensible yet still comprehensible—the author presupposes and employs our words, our ways of thinking, our concepts, and our human nature to such an extent that without the presupposition of all these—or even with their presupposition—everything he asserts sinks into the obscurity. And perhaps this is precisely the purpose of this “elsewhere” being assigned such a central role—a role that not only presupposes, anticipates, and enacts, but also implicitly builds upon that which is not “from elsewhere”.

Obviously, Marion’s engagement with both the traditions of Christian thought and some significant developments in phenomenology is not without its challenges. D’ailleurs, la révélation can be interpreted as a critique of Catholic theological and philosophical traditions, as well as a disruption of the unified development of phenomenology. This perspective is underpinned by a discourse that can be traced back to Lévinas (though with earlier antecedents) and is termed “alterism” (cf. Mezei 2026, p. 226). Alterism is the exaggerated form of understanding of the importance of “the other” (cf. the Latin alter), that is, otherness or difference.

In the history of Western philosophy, the problem of otherness or difference was addressed at the earliest times, such as by Parmenides’ opposition of being and nothing (Kirk et al. 1971, p. 269). Plato defined the principle of identity (tauton) in contrast to the principle of difference (tatheron) and considered the two as the motor of reality (especially in Timaeus 35a, cf. Plato 1997c, p. 1239). In later developments, Hegel’s concept of difference stands out, which conceives of this negativity as a positive–negative that possesses autonomy (Hegel 1991, § 85, pp. 135–36). However, just as tatheron can only be understood in relation to tauton, so too is difference logically dependent on identity. Indeed, the concepts of difference and identity are inextricably linked to the overarching whole, which is characterized by absolute self-identity. Even though Heidegger criticized the logical notion of identity, his emphasis on the significance of identity as Ereignis, or event, does not fundamentally contradict Plato’s conception of tauton (cf. Heidegger 2002).

Alterism is a conception that, instead of the organic unity of identity and difference, emphasizes the hyperbolic autonomy of difference or otherness. According to Marion, revelation always belongs to the realm of difference; it always “comes from elsewhere”. The “wholly other”—this idea, which traces back to Martin Luther and was later brought to the fore by Karl Barth and Lévinas—cannot be grasped from the side of the same, in relation to it, since it shatters the same; it not only transcends but also annihilates the tauton as the decisive point of reference. Despite encountering logical inconsistencies in his arguments, Marion displays a remarkable degree of perseverance in maintaining his position, even when it approaches the absurd. Marion guides the reader with philological rigor through the warpath of the destruction of “being”. This negative manuductio, however, becomes less convincing the further we proceed, as we realize again and again that there is no such hyperbolic “elsewhere” (ailleurs) that does not always-already presuppose the “here”, the “identical”. This point of identity can be localized in God as “not-other” (with Cusanus’ expression non-aliud, cf. Hopkins 1979; Bolberitz 1989) or in us as God’s creatures, who were created from the outset for the fulfillment of God’s plan of salvation, and therefore bear within us the traces of God’s creation. We may try to erase these traces, the image of the Creator in us, but this endeavor can never be fully successful.

To put it another way: the concept of natural revelation is not in opposition to positive revelation, since both are derivatives of the same absolute revelation. It would be very strange if there were a God—indeed, a “foreign god” (Ex 20:3)—who would tyrannically seek to impose Himself on His servants, even though the servants themselves originate from Him and bear His imprint. The God of positive revelation is the God of natural revelation. To tear the two apart—this is an old kind of thinking that has, on occasion, given rise to fervent camaraderie, but it has remained detached from a more nuanced and balanced Catholic intellectual tradition. The attempts to abolish “being” in Marion’s work are consistent with certain dualistic forms, in which a kind of metaphysical violence is expressed (Derrida 2005), rather than the organic unity and salvific wholeness that inevitably characterize divine goodness, the absolute and self-revealing prius of universal correlation. If, in contrast to this universal conception, we posit a certain one-sidedness (the one-sidedness of “elsewhere”) we unavoidably attempt to limit the fullness of God, who—despite the manifold diversity of His operations—“is the same God who works all things in all.” (“ho energon panta en pasin”, 1Cor 12:6).

Marion’s concept enjoys a certain popularity along the lines of the tradition of alterism (cf. Graves 2021). It is important to acknowledge that this tradition is justified to some extent in several ways. Firstly, the problem of difference has always been central to Western philosophy. Secondly, it has been a central problem because it is rooted in the structure of being in which negativity is necessarily implied. Thirdly, the integration of negativity within the domain of positivity has, as would be anticipated, given rise to several concerns among those who accord due consideration to the autonomy and gravity of negativity—and, by extension, of the gravity of evil. Fourthly, as a result, the objections of those who reject systematic solutions as forms of distorting reality are quite understandable. Finally, the tradition of alterism has exerted a significant influence on 20^th-century intellectual orientations, effectively delineating its objective as the dissolution of identity across various domains, including logic, morality, metaphysics, and theology (cf. Lévinas 1981; Winkler 2016).

However, these factors do not substantiate a purported solution based on difference. Indeed, the term “solution” would arguably be considered somewhat idiosyncratic in this context by the representatives of alterism, who radically challenge the validity of the ancient principle of bonum est diffusivum sui (cf. Aquinas 1947, I, q. 5, a. 4, ad 2). This principle of goodness as diffusive of itself entails an intertwining of the tauton and the thateron, which is explicitly denied by the representatives of alterism. In my view, they are right in that the principle of diffusivum sui cannot adequately explain the obvious facts of evil because, in this scheme, evil loses its distinct contours in comparison to the universal self-spreading of goodness. When confronted with the undeniable facts of evil, including horrendous evil, we can agree with the deniers of the principle of diffusivum sui that interpretations based on this principle are deficient. For this reason, I have argued for an alternative principle: “Bonum est refusivum sui”. Accordingly, in addition to being and truth, the concept of goodness is not merely diffusive, self-spreading, or emanative; rather, it is “refusive”, kenotic or self-denying.

Here is a brief explanation: The Latin verb refundo (the basis of the adjective of refusivum) has two meanings: to withdraw (the English “to refuse” originates here) and to restore (the English “to refund”, “to re-fuse”, “refusion” comes from the same source). These two meanings are analogous to two sides of the same coin: refusal and refusion, withdrawal and restoration, negativity and positivity. These factors are inherently interconnected, perhaps suggesting a dialectical relationship. However, the salient point is that the two factors are holistically intertwined. This indicates that for each occurrence of negativity, there is an entangled occurrence of positivity; for each occurrence of refusal, there is a counterpart occurrence of refusion. These seemingly disparate occurrences are, in fact, manifestations of a holistic entanglement in which negativity and positivity are intricately intertwined, with positivity maintaining a dominant status in perpetually evolving forms (cf. Mezei 2017, pp. 255–58).

In Biblical terms, this insight was formulated by St. Paul in various ways. For instance, he writes: “Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound” (Rom 5:20). Beyond the apparent dialectical relationship between “sin” and “grace”, we recognize here the effect of the principle of refusivum, according to which it is the self-identical whole of the unity of sin and grace, negativity and positivity, in which the relationship becomes possible and actual—with respect to the renewal of reality qua reality. In another characteristic formula: “My strength is made perfect in weakness” (2Cor 12:9). Here, the idea is the overall connection of “strength” and “weakness” so that in weakness strength is manifested and vice versa. In this connection, a higher reality is “fulfilled”, “made perfect” (teleioutai). The ability to distinguish between these components is contingent upon the telic, i.e., fulfilled unity of these two elements. Refusal and refusion—or, for that matter, grace and sin, strength and weakness—represent discrete instants within the ambit of the refusive whole, thereby contributing to its teleological reality.

8. Apocalyptic Phenomenology

The theoretical framework of the principle of refusivum sui has been termed “apocalyptic phenomenology”. As previously outlined, phenomenology is apocalyptic both in essence and in its historical development: revelatio quodammodo omnia; revelation is the essence of everything (cf. Mezei 2026, p. 279). It is important to note that this is only true in a certain sense, as Aristotle suggested (Aristotle 1966, 1003a33). Not only is “being said in many ways” (to on legetai pollachōs), but the same can be said of revelation (he apocalypsis legetai pollachōs, as we could rephrase the old maxim). These ways, however, belong to a single community, to the concept of revelation as non-aliud, which is inevitably given insofar as we distinguish its modalities. These modalities are intertwined and exist in communion with one another, including the negative aspect of revelation—its negation, its absence, its silence (for there is a kind of revelation about which one can only remain silent).

With the introduction of the term of “apocalyptic phenomenology”, I wished to express that (a) phenomenology as a historical process, as a problematic, necessarily belongs to the sphere of revelation; (b) that revelation necessarily evokes, defines, and fulfills the set of problems that has gradually come to the fore in traditional theological discourse (and many have correctly explained that, as a theological problem, revelation only gradually came into the center of attention in modernity). From all this, a series of multifaceted conclusions follows:

• The problem of phenomenology is nothing other than the problem of revelation.
• The phenomenological method is a method of revelation based on the principle of refusivum sui.
• The history of phenomenology can only be interpreted comprehensively, correctly, and coherently within its historical arc in the context of the problem of revelation.
• Phenomenology, as the phenomenology of revelation, has always-already carried out the “theological turn”.
• Since phenomenology is a recapitulation of Western philosophy, the phenomenology of revelation or revelational thinking is also the essential procedure of Western thought as a whole.
• The phenomenology of revelation also extends to dogmatic theology in the narrow sense, serving as an introductory yet general and comprehensive discipline within that field.
• Therefore, phenomenology of revelation is capable of raising, defining, and elaborating on the possibility and necessity of revelation—that is, the very questions that dogmatic theology has always presupposed from the outset.
• Unlike dogmatic theology, the phenomenology of revelation is capable of addressing the issue of revelation in its entirety.
• Dogmatic theology necessarily relies on the phenomenology of revelation.

In light of the aforementioned points, a pivotal undertaking within the domain of apocalyptic phenomenology is the thorough delineation of the notion of natural revelation. This assertion is founded upon the premise of revelatio quodammodo omnia. Human beings are, in principle, natural revelation; as part of nature as created reality, they express the essence, content, teleology, and eschatology of creation; as persons, they even provide a sketch of the Trinitarian reality. As creatures of God, human beings possess the capacity for freedom. However, this freedom can be used to deviate from the natural teleology of creation. Moreover, human beings have historically demonstrated a tendency to act in opposition to this teleology. Because of this tendency, human beings need correction, restoration, guidance, salvation history, and, above all, grace. However, it is imperative to note that grace, while it fulfills nature, does not destroy it. “Cum enim gratia non tollat naturam, sed perficiat eam.” (Aquinas 1947, I, q. 1, a. 8, ad 2) Therefore, even in its fallen state, humanity is oriented toward grace in its Vorgriff, or anticipation, rooted in absolute revelation. This is an inherent aspect of natural revelation, whose teleology and eschatology are ultimately realized through the reception of supernatural revelation, culminating in the absolute revelation of God who is always-already “all in all” (panta en pasin, omnia in omnibus, 1Cor 15:28).

Apocalyptic phenomenology examines not only the concept of natural revelation but also that of genuine revelation. This phenomenon, termed “radical revelation”, signifies the fundamental basis of all forms of revelation, encompassing both the divine self-revelation and its economic manifestation (Mezei 2017). Radical revelation is the fundamental expression of absolute revelation with respect to the ramifications of revelatory forms. The concepts of “revelation ad intra” and “revelation ad extra” can be understood as forms of communion, indicating that, despite internal distinctions, absolute unity is maintained. This unity, from a philosophical perspective, signifies a certain understanding, which apocalyptic phenomenology is capable of achieving, albeit without asserting exhaustive comprehension, an act that would be indicative of hubris. Instead of comprehension, the focus here is on apprehension, and apocalyptic phenomenology has always naturally apprehended revelation. This point has always been part and parcel of Christian teaching (cf. Pius 1870, section II; Tanner 1990, p. 806). The expression of radical revelation points to the direct and intuitive understanding of the fact of absolute revelation, an understanding that is the radix or root of derivative concepts of divine revelation.

With radical revelation at its core, apocalyptic phenomenology is closely related to the urgent need to rethink how Catholic philosophy is conceived. It does not aim to replace traditional Christian thought or suggest a new approach that artificially criticizes earlier work by prominent thinkers. Instead, apocalyptic phenomenology examines previous developments in apocalyptic thinking as manifestations of possibilities inherent to the domain itself, both historically and systemically. This approach facilitates a deeper understanding of divine revelation and elucidates the rationale for the fact that, at some point, we need to face, without words, concepts, or theories, the ultimate mystery of divine revelation.

9. Newness: The Future of Catholic Philosophy

Catholic thought has always been universal, meaning it has given space to various currents that have been in recurring debate with one another. Christian Platonists debated with Neoplatonists, Dionysian mystics with Stoic pragmatists, Aristotelians with Augustinians, Scotists with Thomists, Thomists with Suarezians, transcendentalists with realists, Balthasarians with Rahnerians, the followers of liberation theology with the traditionalist reformers, and so on (cf. Swindal and Gensler 2005). All of this took place and continues to take place today along philosophical and theological lines. An independent Catholic philosophy emerged from time to time that did not make theological claims, although its theological relevance was abundantly clear, for example, in the works of Jacques Maritain, Robert Spaemann, Robert Sokolowski, and Josef Seifert. This clearly demonstrates that Catholic thought is pluralistic both historically and by nature, a “house with many mansions” (John 14:2; cf. Vincelette 2020).

However, I am talking here about a single framework: the matrix of Catholic thought. This way of thinking gradually incorporated phenomenological endeavors, a process in which criticism was just as much a part as further reflection. Within this, Catholic thought increasingly focused on the problem of revelation, arising from its own traditions and Scripture, as well as from phenomenological concerns. However, it is not because of historical trends, but rather because of the logic of the problem that we can say the future of Catholic philosophy lies in revelational thinking. It is evident that revelational thinking, the phenomenology of revelation, represents the perspective—grounded, both historically and in the logic of the problem, within which Catholic philosophy can continue to develop.

In my view, the concept of apocalyptic phenomenology, as outlined above, possesses the capacity to effect a renewal of Catholic thinking. The method of refusivum sui reveals the problem of newness; it leads to newness and makes its elaboration inevitable in the age in which we live, not merely an era of change, but an “epochal change” (Francis 2019). One of the most significant exponents of the problem of newness is the late Miklos Vetö, a Hungarian-born French philosopher, who took the most significant steps toward defining and elaborating the concept of nouveauté novatrice (renewing newness, Vetö 2018, pp. 32–63). Newness is not merely new in itself, but a newness which renews; indeed, it totally renews humanity, communities, history, and the universe alike.

The issue of newness intersects with alteristic conceptions, which sometimes, without sufficient clarification, link otherness with newness. However, newness is an incomparably larger and more significant concept than otherness. First and foremost, newness cannot be reduced to the relative new—that is, to the new that is new in comparison to the old. Nor can it be reduced to the original new—that is, to the new that has no precedent. True newness is the absolute newness, which the previous concepts of newness have always presupposed and within which they have always been situated. Absolute newness is what makes relative and original newness possible, unites them, and identifies them as aspects of absolute newness. Absolute revelation is absolute newness, that is, not chronological or original, but all-encompassing and fulfilling newness.

What, then, is newness? Newness is the form of revelation in which revelation has always-already taken place. Absolute revelation takes place in absolute newness; thus, absolute revelation is the expression of absolute newness. The very fact that any newness is possible in the world should, in itself, give us pause for thought. But it is even more thought-provoking that relative and original newness exist within absolute newness, which enables, emits, defines, permeates, and fulfills reality. The absolutely new is thus not only new in itself but also a nouveauté novatrice, renewing newness: chronologically, historically, spiritually, and intellectually, and ultimately in an absolute sense. As Pope Benedict XVI articulated, “Dio è sempre nuovo”—“God is always new” (Benedict 2023).

The future of Catholic thought, according to the above, is revelational thinking, the form of which is newness. This is why I have placed the following motto at the beginning of a recent work: omnia nova. In a sense, everything is new.